


The Fog

by foxjar



Category: Persona 4
Genre: Hand Jobs, Horror, Insecurity, M/M, Pining, Post-Canon, Psychological Horror, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-06
Updated: 2020-08-06
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:15:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25006027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxjar/pseuds/foxjar
Summary: A strange fog brings something to Yu's hometown.It won't be too difficult to look into the rumor, at least. There's a long stretch of beaches bordering the bay, but it shouldn't be too hard to find where everyone is talking about. Yu doesn't think many high schoolers would travel far just to see their alleged soulmate enshrouded in fog.But if anything, Yu has learned that the heart is a complicated place.
Relationships: Hanamura Yosuke/Narukami Yu
Comments: 10
Kudos: 50
Collections: Multifandom Horror Exchange (2020)





	The Fog

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatScottishShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/gifts).



> Thank you to my betas: cinereous, habenaria_radiata, and KelpieChaos!

Another school year begins, but this time, Yu is back in his hometown. Although he remembers some of the people in his class from before he left for Inaba, the sentiment doesn't seem to be mutual.

There's the girl he sat next to during his first year of high school. She has her long hair woven into a thick braid, just like Yu remembers. Her pencil case has cats printed all over it.

Then there's the boy who always keeps his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. He lobbed a volleyball so hard at Yu once during P.E. that he fell to the ground. When Yu had sat up, that boy was standing over him, his apology as warm as his eyes.

Yu might have wanted to be their friend once. Everyone here calls him by his last name and somehow that barrier feels impenetrable now. He finally found a place to belong in Inaba, with friends who had his back through anything, and the thought of starting over makes him tired. Sluggish, like a heavy weight is pulling at his ankles.

His assigned seat is next to the window this year, and he's spent a lot of time looking outside. The trees leading to the entrance gate are distorted by the droplets of rain covering the window, but they are beautiful all the same. It's only April, but the sky is already a washed-out gray.

Everything reminds him of Inaba now. There are even rumors swirling about a strange fog plaguing the area, and he can't help but lean in when he hears someone mention it. A group of girls huddles together at the front of the classroom, gossiping about how you can see your soulmate if you visit the beach on a foggy day.

It's eerily similar to the initial rumors back in Inaba. Too similar. It couldn't be some remnant of the Midnight Channel seeping out here, could it? Yu listens in on the details of the rumor until one of the girls notices him looking. She points him out to her friends, and they all glare at him.

He's back to being an outsider yet again.

Yu looks back outside to the endlessly sprawling city encased in gloom. For now, it seems like he'll be alone here. His parents greeted him when he came home from the train station, but then they set off on yet another trip. He hadn't even had time to unpack his bags before they were gone, leaving their only son alone again.

It won't be too difficult to look into the rumor, at least. There's a long stretch of beaches bordering the bay, but it shouldn't be too hard to find where everyone is talking about. Yu doesn't think many high schoolers would travel far just to see their alleged soulmate enshrouded in fog.

But if anything, Yu has learned that the heart is a complicated place.

On his first night home, he had called Yosuke. More than anything, he just wanted to be back in Inaba by his side. Yu thought hearing his voice would help ease some of the loneliness, but that's when the tightness in his chest finally set in.

Static rippled through the phone, and Yu hasn't heard from any of his friends since. It's been less than a week, but it feels like a lifetime. Every time he tries to use his phone, it's that same static. He'll have to pick up a new phone, maybe when the weekend rolls around, but for now, he's stuck with the static.

His friends would want to hear about these unusual rumors. He's sure of it. Maybe they'd laugh at it — "We dealt with all of that Midnight Channel stuff, remember?" — or maybe they'd take it seriously.

Yu misses their guidance. Their support. When he's with them, it's like no challenge is too daunting, no course of action unworthy of consideration.

It could be something, after all. Or it could be nothing.

For now, he investigates on his own. If he doesn't think about the truth too deeply, he can almost imagine that everyone is helping him. Yosuke's catching the next train. Naoto is already sleuthing the beach. Yukiko and Chie are trying to learn more about the origins of the rumor at school.

Their ghosts are a comfort, wrapping around him like a blanket. Keeping him safe.

The sky is a sheet of gray once he finally makes it to the beach. The fog rolls across the waves in gusts and Yu can't help but peer closer. With this much fog, he can barely see the twinkling lights of Tokyo off in the distance.

He can almost tell himself that this is the floodplain back in Inaba. Is that someone behind him, calling out to him? Is it Uncle Dojima, out taking a walk with Nanako?

But no, Yu is alone. That fact bites more than the cold.

The bay is quiet. There are no other visitors, no birds searching the sand for scraps. It's just Yu and the mist, and the desolation is almost a comfort.

Coming here was a mistake. There's nothing here for him, no matter how desperately he clutches onto the false reality he's meshed together in his head. Yosuke isn't coming for him. Nobody is coming.

He's about to turn back to the station when he sees it — a ripple of orange off in the distance. If it weren't such a stark contrast to the misty silver of the sky, he might not have noticed it.

Yu wouldn't have turned around. But he does.

There's nothing at first. It's just his imagination playing tricks, he thinks. But when he squints, he can make out the shape of a person out beyond the beach, their feet cresting the waves.

It's Yosuke. Yu would recognize him anywhere: the choppiness of his hair, the headphones he so often keeps slung around his neck. For whatever reason, the fog is allowing Yu to see him — and nothing else.

His lips move as smooth as the waves, mouthing words Yu never thought Yosuke would say.

_Don't follow me._

Yu reaches for him, shoulder aching as his arm stretches out toward him. Closer, but never quite close enough.

_I mean it._

The apparition laughs, a hollow sound that echoes as if they're in a cave, entrenched in the depths of the earth.

_Yu._

It's his name that finally snaps him out of his stupor. He's shivering and the water of the bay is up past his knees. His pants are heavy with water, weighing him down as he makes his way back to shore.

The apparition of Yosuke is gone — if it were even there in the first place. Yu isn't sure anymore. One moment he'd been right in front of him, his face clear in the misty gloom, and the next he disappeared.

Yosuke seems to have taken the fog with him. The sun is warm on Yu's back now, finally peeking through the clouds.

He does his best to wring the water from his pants before catching the next train home. It's packed full of commuters on their way home from work, but it gives Yu time to think.

The rumor at school said that on foggy days, you can see your soulmate at the bay. If this is somehow related to the Midnight Channel, would that mean Yosuke is in danger? Why did he see Yosuke, of all people, if this weren't the case?

When Yu gets off the train, he tries to call Yosuke. Again and again until he's almost sure that the buttons on his phone are broken, pressed so deeply that they no longer function. People hurry past him as the night sets in, but time feels like it has slowed to a crawl for Yu. Why can't anyone else see that something is wrong? Does no one else feel the encroaching dread, twisting its way up his spine?

The house is still dark and empty when Yu makes his way home. His parents haven't called to check in on him, but that's as he expected. He's used to them immersing themselves in their work. But with the way his phone has been acting, maybe they've been trying. Maybe Yu isn't as alone as he feels, with the large house seeming to expand the longer he's by himself.

It's exhaustion that makes the trip up the stairs feel like it lasts forever. The steps are creakier than he remembers — less sturdy beneath his feet. He braces himself, his hands on the wall as he drags his body up to his room.

His bed has never been as comfortable as it is now. The fluffiness of his pillows mercifully cradles his head after the long day. He pulls his blanket around him and closes his eyes, but the darkness weighs on him.

It's just darkness. A lack of light. But somehow, this feels different. Something scratches against the side of the house — the branch of a tree, perhaps. And when his name is whispered on the wind, it's almost begging him to look. To come see.

Yu is asleep before he can start to put the pieces together.

* * *

The wind is whistling outside the next morning. It brushes against the house, again bringing the scratch, scratch against the old wood.

On a whim, Yu counts the stairs going down. Thirteen. The uneasy feeling he felt when he came home yesterday followed him into his dreams, leaving an emptiness inside when he woke up. It's silly, but counting each rickety step helps ground him in reality. Everything is as it should be.

But his voicemail is still empty. No missed calls — just the bright screen of his phone whenever he flips it open. It's become a habit now to check even though he never hears the ringtone shrill.

Maybe if he checks enough, it'll finally give him what he wants: a friendly voice, a confirmation that he hasn't been forgotten. That he hasn't been left behind.

After finishing breakfast, Yu heads back upstairs, determined to dedicate his day off from school to studying. It'll help keep his mind off of his phone, at least — as long as he hides it somewhere. Maybe he'll tuck it beneath his bed while he tackles his math homework.

Although his thoughts drift to equations, he still remembers to count the stairs.

One, two, three...

Fourteen altogether.

Yu rubs at his eyes. He's been awake for nearly an hour now, but he must still be tired. His counting skills, or lack thereof, don't bode well for his math homework.

Four, five, six…

He counts his way down the stairs this time, keeping track of the number in his head. Focus steels him.

Fifteen stairs. Somehow it's not as unsettling as it should be; instead, it's merely the house growing. Shaping its way around his cognition. If he thinks there might be more stairs than usual, it has to be his mind playing tricks on him, trying to convince him of what he thinks he wants.

Sixteen steps going back up, then seventeen down again. Once he manages to convince himself that there are twenty steps — seven whole new ones — he dashes up to his room. The tree branch is still scratching against the outside of the house, and when he flips open his phone, the light is dim.

Scritch. Scritch.

"Yu," a voice says, low and strained. "Yu."

It's coming from outside his window. If the voice didn't sound so familiar, would he still have the courage to check? Yu isn't sure of anything anymore except for the fact that he is alone in a house that is twisting around him, whether it be his imagination or not.

Fog is curling its way down the street when Yu opens his window. He can smell the freshness of the rain, but the sky is dry now.

"Psst. Psst."

When he looks down, he sees that reddish mop of hair he came to love in Inaba. Yosuke is clinging to the ledge of roofing outside Yu's window, his fingers scraped and bloodied.

Yu holds his questions until he's helped pull Yosuke inside, falling together onto the floor. Yosuke laughs, his breath hot on Yu's face as he makes himself comfortable on top of him.

Has Yosuke's laugh always been so deep, so clipped? The thought flashes through his mind, but with Yosuke here in front of him, his suspicions slip away.

"Why are you here?" Yu asks. "Why haven't you been answering your phone?"

Yosuke laughs again, his headphones nearly sliding off his neck.

"Didn't you hear me? I was calling your name all night. Scratching at the walls, too."

Scratch. Scratch.

A shiver creeps its way down Yu's spine. How strange of Yosuke — how very unlike him.

"Why didn't you knock on the door? Why didn't you call?"

"You know what your parents would've thought," Yosuke says, voice solemn, lacking its usual energy. "About us."

Yu doesn't know — has no idea what he's talking about, in fact — but when Yosuke kisses him, his questions wash away. His lips are soft against his own, and with the way Yosuke meshes them so easily together, it almost feels like they've done this before. Hands wander up to his face, fingers tracing the shape of his jaw. Then down his throat, pressing into his skin, feeling the life thrum within.

"It's all still so new, y'know," Yosuke says against Yu's lips. "And I didn't want to lose that just yet."

It's like they've skipped the part where they confessed to each other; the moment where they might have blurted out their feelings is blank in Yu's mind. An empty canvas. And yet here Yosuke is, telling him that it's not so empty after all.

The canvas is full of color.

When Yosuke's hand dips beneath the waistband of his pants, Yu bucks his hips. Yosuke's face is flushed, his cheeks glowing. His hand wraps around Yu's half-hard cock, and Yu chants the word "finally, finally" in his head until it ends up slipping from his lips in a gasp.

Yosuke's grin is crooked. Twisted. But that doesn't matter now, not when he's come so far to be with Yu. He brushes the silver bangs away from Yu's face, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

"I wanted to see you so bad," Yosuke says. "Ever since you left. I couldn't stand it. I couldn't just leave things as they were."

"Really?" Yu's voice is thick with desire, his whole body sweltering as Yosuke touches him. "But the phone —"

Yosuke kisses away his questions, stroking him as if he's done this a million times before. He knows when to tighten his grip and when to slow his movements to draw a breathy moan from Yu.

It's too perfect. Their path to this point is muddy in his head, but it must've happened. Sweat is pooling beneath his back, and all he can think about is how good Yosuke's hand feels. How happy he is to be here in this moment with Yosuke, to have become as close as he dreamt of back in Inaba.

Yu often dreamt about all of the things he didn't have the courage to ask Yosuke about. Sometimes they would sleep in the same bed during an outing at the inn, or they'd set out futons beside each other in Yu's room. Yu's hands would slip beneath his futon and he'd pull out his magazines with half-naked men plastered on the cover. There was no fear of Yosuke's rejection. No condemnation. They just huddled together over the magazines, and then...

Sometimes the dreams would end there, leaving Yu empty as he wiped the sleep from his eyes and got ready for school. But other times they'd trail on and on, lasting for what felt like hours. Days.

Like now, with Yosuke's hand jerking him, his thumb pressing against the tip of Yu's cock. Teasing him and riling him up with all of the new sensations swirling through his body.

Yosuke kisses him through his orgasm, smiling against his lips as Yu moans. His body shakes, his knees trembling as Yosuke runs his free hand through Yu's hair.

A fog encases Yu. The eerie case with the stairs no longer matters. Even his prevalent loneliness seems to slip away now that Yosuke is here in front of him, as real as the rain hammering against the windows.

It is bliss, but it can't last forever. After cleaning themselves up, they make their way downstairs.

"I'm starving," Yosuke says, patting his stomach. A damning phrase.

There's so much to catch up on, despite having last seen each other a week ago. Yu missed Yosuke's laugh, his smile, his charm.

Yu asks a million questions as he starts working on lunch. "How's everyone back in Inaba? Has work been going okay?"

Their words flow so easily that it's like Yu never left at all. Like there were never miles and miles between them.

After Yu sets the food down on the table, he lets Yosuke dish up first as he puts the pans in the sink to soak. His hands are trembling as he washes them, the hot water scalding on his skin.

It's when he sits down to eat that things start to change. Yosuke is already digging into the food, having dished himself up a hearty serving of both noodles and tofu. It's like the light in the room dims, and everything starts to fall into place — or out.

"That's tofu, you know," Yu says.

Yosuke nods, mouth full of food. He gulps his food down before saying, "Yeah, I know. It's great."

The glow of Yosuke's sunkissed brown hair seems to fade, leaving a much lighter washed-out color. Yu almost asks himself if it's just always been like that, but then it's everything: how white his eyes are now, how gray his skin has become. At first, Yosuke just looks tired with dark circles beneath his eyes. But then his skin starts to sag, slipping from his skull ever so slightly.

"Yosuke doesn't like tofu. Either that, or he's allergic. You're not Yosuke. As much as I'd like you to be." Yu shakes his head, stepping back from the table. Every time he looks at the creature before him, it looks less and less like Yosuke.

"What are you talking about?" the creature drawls, chomping on the chunks of tofu as sauce runs down its mottled chin. "Of course I am. What's gotten into you?"

Yu doesn't count the steps as he runs upstairs. He slams his door shut and shoves his dresser in front of it, but he can't hear anything from downstairs. The creature isn't following him.

When he grabs his phone and tries to turn it on, the screen remains dark and lifeless. Dead. He plugs it in to charge — just enough for him to call someone, anyone — and when it finally comes to life, his chest tightens.

Dozens of missed calls litter his screen: Chie, Yukiko, Yosuke. He presses the phone to his ear and listens to their staticky voices, a balm midst the storm.

His friends ask if he's okay. They've been worried after not hearing from Yu. He's been trying to call them this whole time, and yet here they are, matching his worry. Has his phone been dead this whole time? Or was it something else?

Yu doesn't know anymore.

He calls Yosuke and tries to explain the situation. As he attempts to crack a joke, his words fail him. His hand clutching the phone is damp with sweat, and his heart is galloping in his chest despite his voice masking his dread. This isn't like back in Inaba with the Midnight Channel; he doesn't have that same strength here.

When he heads back downstairs, the phone still pressed to his ear, the creature is gone. The other Yosuke. The bowl it was eating from is empty, so it must have been here. It wasn't just Yu's imagination. It couldn't have been.

The most incriminating fact might be that the front door is wide open, letting in the cool evening air. It swings to and fro on its hinges, taunting Yu.

It's a relief to be free of the fog that had covered him. Yosuke wasn't really here and his friends hadn't abandoned him; it was all tied to this other being. This thing.

This fear.

Once the front door is closed and locked, Yosuke tells Yu that he'll be on the next train out of Inaba. He swears it, work and school be damned. This is all too strange, too eerie to be ignored, but Yu shushes him.

"Yosuke," he says. His heart is still racing, but everything has brought him to this very moment. This point of no return. "I — I love you."

There's a pause on the other end of the call. Then a deep sigh, and finally a quick, nervous laugh.

"Jeeze. What took you so long to say it, man?"

This is the Yosuke he knows. The Yosuke he loves. His voice holds so much energy, so much emotion. Why hadn't he realized it before? He wanted to see him so badly that he fell for such a cheap imitation.

They stay on the phone for hours until the sun starts to come up. Yu keeps his phone plugged in as he lies in bed, soaking in Yosuke's sounds: every breath, every sigh. They're all so much louder now that he's confessed, pushed to the brink by the horrors he's experienced.

Yosuke's coming over as soon as he can. While they may not find any answers, at least they'll have each other.

For real this time.


End file.
